When the Rain Falls Black
by Individually Packaged
Summary: "You're fascinated. I can tell. I've been around humans for too long not to notice subtle things like interest." Thiefshipping Two-Shot.
1. Part 1

**A/N: **Okay, so I've been in love with this couple for a while, and I just hope this two-shot does it justice. I also hope neither Bakura nor Marik appears too OOC. I tried to keep them as cannon as possible, so hopefully there's not too much deviation. This is also my first time writing something lemony, so I'm not sure how it turned out. Also, if I ignored any cannon facts, then I apologize in advance.

This story occurs after the end of the anime, Season 6, so that's why Bakura would be expected to be gone.

**Warning:** I never set out to write a lime/lemon, but it's in here, in Part 2. So if two men having sex squicks you, then don't read this. Also beware of swearing.

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When the Rain Falls Black - Part 1

Marik felt panicked. His quick-beating heart was lodged in his throat, as he stepped quickly through the dark alleyway. His feet pounded the muddy alley floor, splashing rainwater in all directions. The rain fell ceaselessly in thick sheets, accentuated by brief flashes of lightning, which only revealed Marik's anxious face as he ran.

He wasn't far enough. His pursuers would be enraged if they caught him. After all, what Marik had stolen wasn't simply a dusty old artifact. And as Marik considered the item he clutched tightly in his right hand, the corner of his lip curled upward. The adrenaline he felt from the crime was exquisite. He hadn't felt more alive in years. At least, not since his final days as Tombkeeper.

The rain had drenched his body, but he was too invigorated with the thrill of escape to notice the cold or discomfort. The security guards from the museum were close, he sensed them, but stopping to check now would only give them time to catch up. Marik's eyes narrowed against the blinding rain and darkness to catch better sight of where he was going. He had been running down these dank alleys for too long.

As Marik rounded the corner of an alleyway hastily, he suddenly slammed headlong into something. The object caused him to fall backward from the force of his momentum, and fall straight into a murky puddle. Marik looked up, angered and confused. He was losing time. The guards would surely be on him soon.

At that moment, as Marik struggled to stand up, the skies lit up in a flash of lightning and the object of his fall became as clear as daylight.

Standing there, right before Marik, was none other than Bakura.

Bakura was staring down at him expressionlessly. His white hair was matted slightly from the merciless rain and his button-down blue shirt was thrown open to reveal the striped shirt beneath, which was distinctly missing the Millenium Ring, the object that usually completed the outfit. In the split second Marik had to stare up at his former partner, Bakura cocked his head and smirked slightly, as water slid down his face and slipped off his angular features. Then, the alleyway went dark again as the flash of lightning was swallowed up by the night.

"Marik. You were the last person I'd expected to find in Japan," Bakura said through the darkness. "After defeating your dark side, I thought you'd stay in Egypt and quietly fulfill your Tombkeeper duties."

Due to the moonlight, Marik could slightly see Bakura's shape as the latter folded his arms, but Marik had no time to dawdle. He was shocked to have run into Bakura—hadn't the spirit been defeated after the final battle of the Past?—but there was the pressing issue of being caught and much-needed explanations could wait.

"I don't have the time for you, Bakura," Marik snapped as he shot off the alleyway floor in an instant, getting out of the puddle, and brushed past Bakura, knocking his shoulder as he hurried to round the corner. The guards would be close. He needed to get away.

Suddenly, Bakura's hand caught Marik's arm and Bakura wheeled him around to bring them face to face.

"What's your hurry, Marik? You don't have time to catch up with old friends?" Bakura asked silkily. Curiosity was evident in his tone, and perhaps ire at being so obviously brushed off.

Marik jerked his arm out of Bakura's grasp. "Leave me the hell alone, Bakura! I need to get out of here before—"

But suddenly, several things happened all at once. They heard the sound of footsteps spattering through the muddy alleys behind them and flashlights beaming in all directions. In that same instant, the sky lit up in a lightning flash again and Bakura's eyes fell to the object Marik clutched tightly in his right hand. Marik had raised his hand unconsciously earlier, perhaps in retaliation to Bakura's sudden grasp, and now Bakura was eyeing it with surprise and wonder. Then, just as quickly as his eyes had widened, they narrowed again and his expression looked set. Comprehension had settled across his face.

"You're coming with me. And I'm not letting you go without an explanation." Bakura grabbed Marik's arm again and sprinted forward in the direction Marik had been running before he'd been stopped.

"Hey—what the fuck—get your hands off of me," Marik protested as Bakura splashed through the puddles, dragging him forward. He felt unbalanced as Bakura hauled him forward carelessly and dug his fingers unnecessarily deeply into Marik's arm. In an effort to get the situation under control, Marik threw Bakura's hand off himself again but continued running alongside him. As long as he put distance between himself and those guards, he didn't care whom he ran with.

Bakura seemed to know the alleyways quite well. He ran without considering where he was going and Marik simply followed, tucking the artifact he'd stolen deeper into his cloak. The last thing he'd wanted was to let Bakura know of what he'd stolen, but that was beyond his control now. He could only trust that Bakura would keep him from being caught. The idea that he would keep him safe was laughable, however, and Marik wasn't sure if it was worse being caught by the guards or by Bakura.

"How did you manage it?" Bakura asked suddenly as they sprinted through the dark alleys. "I've been eyeing the new exhibit for a few days now. But I thought the security was too strict to attempt anything. And yet, _you've_ done it."

Marik huffed slightly. He'd been running for a while now, and conversation would only exhaust him. "I don't see what's so intimidating about those guards. If you're stealthy enough, the exhibit isn't too difficult to rob."

He didn't know how he knew it, but he sensed Bakura smirking. "You're surprising, Marik. Here I'd thought you'd just go back to Egypt a good little boy and never steal anything again."

Marik didn't reply as he ran. His entire backside was soaked from his fall in the puddle and the rain was falling even harder. However, no matter how much he strained his hearing, he couldn't hear the guards' footfalls behind him. Despite his misgivings about trusting Bakura, he thought he might be safe after all. They were out of the alleyways now and running down the streets.

Bakura slowed down as he neared an apartment complex. They entered the building and Bakura pulled out a key to open a door directly on the first floor. As Bakura entered the apartment, Marik hesitated. If he knew Bakura, he wasn't being kind by just letting him stay the night while the guards gave up hope of finding the criminal. He certainly had ulterior motives, and they probably included stealing the item Marik had robbed from the museum exhibit.

"Well?" Bakura prompted, when he noticed that Marik still hadn't come in. "If you prefer to stand out there all night, you're welcome to it. But first, you're going to explain how you came by _that_ thing." He stared pointedly at Marik's cloak pocket, somehow knowing exactly where Marik had placed it.

Reluctantly, Marik pursed his lips and stepped into the apartment. He took a few steps into the dank, undecorated apartment as Bakura flipped on the lights and went into the kitchen. Marik took off his cloak awkwardly and left it in a pile by the entranceway. He kept the stolen object clutched in his right hand.

He followed Bakura into the kitchen and noticed the latter pulling something out of the freezer. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it was a large piece of steak, which made Marik's stomach churn with disgust. Bakura dropped the steak onto a plate and placed it into the microwave to defrost it.

Then, Bakura turned to face Marik. They stared at each other for several moments and the only sound was the whir of the microwave. And the question that Marik had had nagging at the back of his head since running into Bakura finally emerged.

"How the hell are you alive, Bakura?" Marik asked bluntly, crossing his arms. "You died when the Pharaoh sealed Zorc."

Bakura smirked. "So I did. But then again…"

He stepped forward, approaching Marik, and leaned in close. Marik panicked, unsure of what Bakura was planning to do, but knowing it wouldn't be pleasant, and backed up. He found only the wall behind him. Bakura's smile widened as he trapped Marik. Then, giving him an ardent look, Bakura suddenly grabbed the object Marik was clutching, which Marik gave up in the split second of surprise at Bakura's expression. Bakura walked back to the table, looking as though nothing unusual had happened, and examined the item.

"Then again, the Millenium items were thought to have disappeared as well," Bakura finished as he eyed the golden Millenium Rod he'd just seized from Marik. "They were sealed in the Pharaoh's final resting place after his soul left this world. And yet, here they are again. Excavated from Egypt and guarded at a Japanese museum."

Marik's hands fisted, still unsure why Bakura had just acted so oddly. "Give that back, Bakura. I've gone through all that trouble to steal it—"

"I don't intend to keep it, Marik. You can have it back as soon as I'm assured that it's the real Rod."

"Of course it's the real Rod. I would know since I've owned it before," Marik said haughtily. "Besides, I thought you were more interested in the Ring?"

Bakura's eyes lit up. "Yes, the Ring. You didn't happen to steal that while you were robbing the museum, did you?"

"No. I only took the Rod. It's most useful to me as it will let me control the minds of the security guards and enable me to steal the rest of the items." Marik paused as he stared at Bakura, still unable to believe it was really him. "You still haven't answered my question. How did you survive?"

Bakura ran his hands along the golden shaft of the Rod for a moment, before he finally glanced at Marik. "I probably couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. My best guess is that the return of the items somehow brought me back as well. It seems as though I'm destined to return as long as these things keep showing up."

Marik raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient. And a bit farfetched, in my opinion."

"As I said, it's quite inexplicable." Bakura set the Rod down on the kitchen table and turned to the microwave that began beeping at that moment. "Now, since you've stolen the Rod, you intend to steal the rest of the items?"

Marik considered the direction of the conversation. It seemed like he and Bakura were once again pursuing a similar cause. Bakura would want the items again now that both he and they were back. Marik wasn't sure how inclined he was to partner up with Bakura again, especially after the way they'd been defeated by his dark side last time. But even as Marik considered the idea of robbing the museum for the rest of the items with Bakura, his heart sped up. Since Bakura had been defeated and Marik had stayed in Egypt like a "good boy," as Bakura had just suggested, Marik had been preoccupied with the temptation of freedom. With the enticement of being wicked and immoral again. Despite the defeat of his dark side, there was nothing to be gained by going back to Egypt. His life had been boring there. Coming back to Japan and stealing the Millenium Rod had been so liberating that he found he couldn't go back to his less exhilarating life. Marik glanced briefly at Bakura as he pulled out a pan from a cupboard, and realized that if there was one person that could make life exhilarating, it would surely be the spirit of the Millenium Ring.

"Yes. That's what I intend to do," Marik finally responded. Feeling slightly more comfortable than when he'd first come in, he sat down at the kitchen table.

In the meantime, Bakura had begun frying his steak on the stovetop. The meat was dripping blood as it sizzled and Marik didn't miss the voracious look Bakura gave the piece of steak as he flipped it.

"In that case, I don't suppose you have any inclination to work as partners again?" Bakura turned to look at Marik. "You own the Rod again, after all. But you'll need my thieving expertise if you want to steal all the items."

Marik snorted. "Thieving expertise? You forget I was the one who wasn't scared of those measly guards and stole the Rod."

Bakura smiled. "And you forget that you would've been caught if I hadn't helped you. Besides, you probably don't have any place to hide while you're in Japan. I don't suppose you're just going to stroll into a hotel after pulling off that stunt tonight."

These words rang true, Marik considered, but he didn't want to rely on Bakura's help.

"What do you say, Blondie? Do we have a deal?" Bakura asked.

Marik pursed his lips, annoyed with that nickname, but not quite knowing why. "Yes, we have a deal. But don't call me that. Just because we've been partners before, it doesn't mean we're on such personal terms."

Bakura simply smirked. "I think now is a good time as any to be on those terms. We'll be working together after all."

"It's still no reason to act like you know me so well," Marik retorted. But even as Bakura turned to attend to his steak, he couldn't help but feel that Bakura did know him. And quite well.

Finally, Bakura slapped the severely undercooked steak onto a plate and placed it on the table, turning off the stove. He sat down and began eating ravenously, without regard to the questioning look Marik was giving him.

"Do you intend to give _me_ something to eat too? Or is that not part of the deal, feeding me?" Marik asked irately.

Bakura glanced at him briefly, while ripping the steak with his teeth. His mouth was bathed in blood as it dripped down his chin and onto the tabletop. Marik raised his eyebrows, both fascinated and disgusted with this raw display of animalism.

"You could check my fridge, but I doubt you'd find anything _you_ like to eat." Bakura said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't have any of that vegetarian trash you eat."

"Trash? And what the hell do you call that?" Marik stared pointedly at the glistening, bloody meat.

But Bakura only smirked, not looking the slightest bit offended. "_This_ is real food. And it's much more appetizing than your vegetarian rubbish."

Marik dropped the conversation, not knowing what else to say. It was obvious he'd have to find some food for himself tomorrow. It was probably two in the morning by now and he had no inclination to wander the streets again.

As he stared at Bakura's animalistic eating habits, he felt transfixed. Bakura was digging his teeth deeply into the meat, and then ripping it rapaciously, as though he hadn't eaten in days. The rivulets of blood dripped down his face, falling onto the plate and tabletop without regard. Then, as Marik caught his eye, Bakura looked at him ravenously, licking his lips. The corners of his mouth stretched into a smile as he revealed bloodied teeth. Looking into Bakura's voracious expression, Marik felt a shiver run down his back. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought Bakura was attempting to seduce him. And if he was, Marik was afraid that he would've succeeded. The animalistic way he ate was very akin to a similar animalistic act.

Finally, after being unable to withstand staring at Bakura any longer, Marik stood from the table.

"I need a shower," he stated. "I hope you have a decent bathroom in this godforsaken apartment."

"First door to the left," Bakura replied smoothly, finishing his steak. He licked his fingers, apparently satiated, and looked like a cat that was cleaning its paws after a spectacular kill. Or like a lover during a fuck.

Marik had to look away. These sexually laced actions were making him unbelievably unnerved.

He went in the direction Bakura had indicated and found the bathroom. He stripped off the dirty, black shirt he wore and his combats, throwing the clothes in a corner. Stepping into the shower stall, he turned on the hot water and stood in the direct path of the spray. He noted that Bakura hadn't lived in this apartment for very long. He'd probably only rented it for the duration of his stay in Japan. There was only a bar of soap in the stall and a nearly full bottle of shampoo.

Marik cleansed himself thoroughly, careful with the scars on his back, as always. His thoughts drifted to the other man currently residing in this apartment. He couldn't believe his luck, he thought sarcastically. Finding Bakura, of all people, in Japan's alleyways. Though he was still reluctant to partner up again, he had to admit that Bakura would be useful. He'd been the Thief King of Egypt's past and would surely know what to do.

Marik leaned against the wall, letting the spray hit him, and closed his eyes. He'd harbored cravings for the spirit since the last time they'd partnered in the Battle City tournament. He knew it was just physical want and didn't understand why his dislike or distrust of Bakura didn't at least dampen these feelings. And of course, Bakura wasn't helpful with the voracious way he devoured his steak and stared at Marik.

His thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly heard someone throw open the door to the bathroom. Marik was startled. He pulled part of the curtain to the shower stall open and stared at his intruder.

"What the hell, Bakura? Couldn't you hear that I was showering?" Marik shouted, angered beyond belief that he couldn't get any privacy around here.

Bakura simply gave him a bored look as he placed a pair of clothes on the bathroom countertop.

"That's precisely why I decided to give you something to change into." Bakura looked at Marik's wet face, poking out of the shower stall. "That is, unless you want to walk around naked. Which will be fine by me, but I thought I'd at least give you some options."

Marik's face turned red. "Fine, just leave them there. And get out."

Bakura smirked as he turned and left the bathroom, closing the door.

Sighing in frustration, Marik snapped the curtain back and resumed showering. Honestly, if Bakura continued saying and doing these things, Marik would snap and do something regrettable.

After finishing his shower, Marik changed into the blue button-down shirt and black pants Bakura had given him. After his initial anger, he found himself surprised that Bakura had even thought of Marik's need for clothing. Upon leaving the bathroom, he went in search of the spirit to find out where he'd sleep.

"I think the couch should suit you," Bakura stated when Marik asked him about sleeping arrangements.

"That ratty old thing?" Marik grumbled, eyeing the shabby couch that was tucked in a corner of the tiny living room. It was torn in several places and had some unidentifiable spots on the cushions. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"That could also be arranged," Bakura said cheerfully. "There's some sheets in the utility closet. Make yourself at home."

With that, Bakura left the room, and Marik was left with a pair of sheets, a ragged couch, and no pillow. He proceeded to cover the couch with the sheets, deciding that it would be a long night.

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**A/N:** I hope the story is remotely decent up to this point. Please let me know what you think! I'll be posting Part 2 soon.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Part 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much to all who have read and reviewed!This is the second and final part of the story. And... I was reading over it again before posting, and realized the lime/lemon wasn't really that bad. As in, it's not really that graphic. Whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know. I still left the M rating just in case.

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When the Rain Falls Black - Part 2

The next day, Marik awoke to the sight of Bakura walking around the apartment in nothing but drawstring pants. He sighed and dug deeper into the ugly couch, to avoid the inevitable realization that he was indeed in Bakura's apartment, that he had fled Egypt, and was a criminal.

"Get up, Blondie!" Bakura called from the kitchen. "We've got a lot to do if we're going to steal the rest of those items tonight."

At that statement, Marik threw off the covers and leapt off the couch, thoroughly angered with various parts of what Bakura had just said. He stalked into the kitchen and glowered at Bakura, who was pulling something out of the fridge and thoroughly ignoring Marik's glare.

"First of all, I told you not to call me that despicable name," Marik said. "And second—what do you mean tonight? Don't you think it's a little early to rob the same place two nights in a row?"

Bakura turned to stare at him. "I think we need to steal them quickly, before the security tightens. Besides, the sooner we get them, the sooner we can get out of Japan."

Marik stared at him hollowly. "Get out? And just where do you intend to go?"

Bakura shrugged, as though the lack of a rigid plan didn't bother him. "As long as it's away from here, I don't particularly care where we go."

The way Bakura continued using the term _we_ in referring to the two of them bothered Marik. They might be partners, but they still had to look out for their own best interests, and Marik wasn't used to sharing power equally with anyone, and definitely not with Bakura, of all people. But the more he thought about the future, the more Marik's head began to spin. He didn't want to consider it. He didn't want to think about consequences anymore. As far as he was concerned, those bothersome considerations were left back in Egypt.

"Fine, we'll go tonight," Marik finally agreed.

Bakura smiled as he turned to the stovetop to cook a batch of bacon. Marik found his eyes unintentionally roaming Bakura's naked torso as the latter cooked. Perhaps due to the amount of protein Bakura regularly ate, he had built up his physique and looked a bit larger than Marik. Marik observed the way Bakura's back muscles moved smoothly and sinuously as he worked and the way his low-rising drawstring pants fell on his hips and wondered if Bakura was as ravenous in bed as he had been with that steak…

Then, realizing his train of thought, Marik's expression darkened and he suddenly snapped, "What are you doing walking around half-naked, anyway? Put a shirt on, would you?"

Bakura turned to give Marik an odd look and raised an eyebrow. "I think you're forgetting that this is my apartment and I can walk around as I please. But if it bothers you so much, I might oblige you."

Marik snorted, but inwardly cursed himself for acting so irrational. He really had to get his thoughts under control.

They spent the rest of the day preparing to rob the museum. Marik cleaned his regular clothes at the Laundromat of the apartment complex and dropped the Rod into his cloak pocket. He had also gone out stealthily to buy himself some normal food, because it seemed like Bakura only had meat in his fridge and wasn't about to make Marik's stay any easier by making accommodations.

"Why were you out in the alleyways yesterday anyway?" Marik asked during early evening, when they sat at the table, eating their dinners. "Where you going to steal the Millennium items last night too?"

Bakura ripped off a piece of his beef. "No. But I heard commotion coming from the museum and realized that someone was beating me to it. I went out to investigate and maybe try to steal the item for myself." He glanced at Marik briefly then. "Of course, then I found _you_ out in the rain, holding the Rod, and realized I could hardly steal it now that I knew who the robber was."

Marik's eyebrows furrowed. "Not that I'd want you to, but why _didn't_ you steal it from me? You could have left me out there to get caught by the guards and let me take the blame."

Bakura smiled slightly. "It's true. I could have easily done that. But I thought I might need you."

Marik's eyebrows shot up. "Hardly. You and I both know that we don't need each other. I could easily take the items for myself and so could you. The only reason we're partners is because we'd be enemies otherwise. And I'd rather not cross paths with you as my enemy."

This caused Bakura's smile to widen. "Well-put. And you're right. I hardly need you to help me steal the items." He stared at Marik for a moment. "But you can't deny that sometimes, having a partner just for the sake of having some company is a good thing. Besides, you're entertaining to have around the apartment."

At this, Marik rolled his eyes. Honestly, what was Marik, a pet hamster to the voracious cat? He demanded more respect than that.

As evening fell and the sun slipped over the horizon, Marik readied himself to use the Rod. He needed to clear his head in order to maintain full control of another person's mind. Bakura dressed in his usual striped shirt and put on his black trench coat and boots. It had begun raining again, though it was only in light sheets at the moment.

They stepped out of the apartment and headed toward the museum. Marik fingered the Rod in his cloak anxiously as he strode across the wet sidewalks and felt the steady rhythm of rain fall through his hair and slip down his face.

He and Bakura didn't speak. The back of the museum loomed in sight and they could see security guards standing before the back door. He and Bakura were hidden by the shadows so no guard could see them. Bakura glanced at Marik, caught his eye, and nodded for him to proceed.

Marik pulled out the Rod and concentrated on the two guards. He imagined them walking into the museum and heading toward the break room. After several moments where the rain simply dripped through their clothes and nothing happened, the guards suddenly turned and walked through the door, leaving it open.

The strain on Marik's mind was great. He had to control two very diligent minds at once and couldn't otherwise do much else. He realized that getting the items by himself, without Bakura's help, might have actually been much more difficult.

"Alright, let's go," Bakura said quietly and slinked forward, toward the open door of the museum.

Marik followed him, walking just as stealthily, and concentrated on keeping hold of the two minds. They entered the building and crept through the dark halls, toward the middle part of the museum, where the replica of the Millennium Stone stood.

They didn't encounter any other guards, but there was a red laser detector around the large, fake Stone that held the other six Millennium items. A light dropped down from the ceiling and illuminated the Stone and its contents. As Marik neared the items, he observed the golden glint of the artifacts in the light, and greed overpowered him as it always did in the presence of the items.

"I'll disarm the detector," Bakura told him quietly. "You concentrate on the guards with your Rod."

With that he knelt down by the Stone replica and pulled some unknown device from his trench coat, which he used on the machinery below the Stone. Marik stood quietly and focused on the guards, ignoring the slight chinking and clinking sounds that Bakura produced as he worked on the alarm system. Though he found his thoughts drifting sometimes, Marik forced himself to concentrate. Any break in focus and he would lose them. And the moment the guards found themselves in the break room and not standing guard, they would certainly raise the alarm.

Finally, Bakura stood up just as the red laser detector faded and nothing stood between them and the Millennium items. Smiling, Bakura grabbed the Ring from the centerpiece and placed it around his neck. The short pointed rods on the Ring clinked against one another quite loudly as Bakura did this and suddenly—

"Hey—stop what you're doing!" someone shouted from the far side of the room. A security guard ran toward them, apparently having heard the clinking noises of Bakura dismantling the alarm. The guard paused to get out a walkie talkie, which he raised to his mouth and began shouting into, "We have an intruder alert! I'm requesting back-up!"

"Shit," Marik muttered, cursing their luck.

At this sudden disturbance, his concentration dropped for a split second. He lost control of the guards in the break room. Knowing that now at least three guards would be heading over here, Marik grabbed Bakura by his coat and turned toward the location of the back door.

Bakura needed no more prodding than that. He sprinted forward of his own accord, his Millennium Ring clinking and beating against his chest as he ran, following Marik as he led the way through the dark halls. They heard voices shouting behind them. The alarm system rang after someone had triggered it, and the sound of footsteps was loud and close behind them.

"You couldn't have dismantled it more quietly, could you?" Marik charged, fuming as they ran through the shadows. "If it hadn't been for all that noise—"

"Shut the hell up, Marik," Bakura returned. "If you'd controlled the mind of that third security guard, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Third? Do you have any fucking clue how hard it is to control _two_ people at the same time?"

Bakura ignored him and focused on getting out of there. They reached the back door and burst out of the museum, into the pounding rain. They continued running, knowing that the guards wouldn't stop. The rain, so murky in the dark it might as well have been black, had increased in intensity and now soaked them deeply. But that was hardly a concern at the moment. They simply had to get back to the apartment before they were caught.

Following the same alleyways they'd taken the night before, they reached the apartment and ripped open the door to rush inside. Knowing that they would be safe now that they'd gotten off the streets, Marik dropped his cloak by the doorway and dragged himself into the kitchen. He sat at the table, slumping, and dropped his head in his hands, unable to believe how close they'd been to being caught. Bakura walked into the kitchen, having dropped the trench coat by the entrance as well, and set out to defrost another piece of steak in the microwave.

Marik didn't understand why Bakura was so unconcerned with their failure to retrieve all the items. How could he be thinking about eating when they'd almost been caught? When all they had done is gotten Bakura's bloody Ring?

"I don't know why you're so bothered," Bakura remarked as he proceeded to fry his steak. "We'll just go back tomorrow. Even if it takes us all week, we'll get all the items."

Marik raised his head to glower at him. "What the hell does that mean, 'we'll just go back tomorrow'? We should've just gotten them all today. There should be no need to try again."

Bakura glanced at Marik, as though considering his tone. "I don't understand your hurry. I've failed to steal things many times. But there's no use in wallowing in anger and self-pity. We need get our arses back there until we get it done, no matter how long it takes."

At these words, Marik was hit with understanding. The spirit had been attempting to accomplish one mission—raising Zorc with the Millennium items—for five thousand years. And he had failed continuously. But he always returned, and always tried again. Despite all the blows Bakura took to accomplish his goal, he never gave up. And that dedication was something Marik could surely respect.

"Alright, we'll head back tomorrow for the rest of them," Marik finally relented. "But I don't expect to fail again."

Bakura finished frying his steak, and just like yesterday night, splattered the bloody thing onto a plate and sat down at the table to devour it. Marik watched him intently, just as he had the night before. Bakura didn't bother to use knives or forks. He simply picked up the raw chunk of meat and tore off a piece, chewing it with unmistakable gluttony. He ripped through half of it before he noticed Marik staring. Upon noticing this, he slowly lowered the steak onto the plate and wiped off the blood dripping down his chin with the back of his hand.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were intrigued," Bakura challenged.

Marik hadn't realized how intently he'd been staring, but made no show to admit to it. He simply raised his eyebrows, looking as though Bakura was severely mistaken. "Intrigued? With this bloody display you call eating? I don't think so."

"You're fascinated. I can tell. I've been around humans for too long not to notice subtle things like interest."

Marik had nothing to say. Because Bakura was right. He was indeed fascinated and intrigued. The rawness that was Bakura was stimulating—watching him eat with such gusto, sinking his teeth into the meat, smirking while the liquid slipped over his lips, it was all enough to disgust and arouse Marik all at once.

After examining Marik's expression, Bakura's smile increased as he caught Marik's eye. Then, being sure that his attention was undivided, Bakura slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip, licking off the gleaming blood. Marik watched the movement silently, and though his outward physique pointed to disinterest in the action, he was raging inside.

Bakura eyed him for a moment, then stood up from the table, walked around it, and stepped toward Marik. Unsure of how to react, Marik stood up as well and backed up.

Bakura was undeterred. He approached slowly as Marik took a few steps backward, only to find the solid wall behind him. Then, grabbing him by the shoulders, Bakura suddenly shoved Marik roughly into the wall, making him wince from the force on his scarred back. Marik felt again the adrenaline he'd felt when running from the guards. His heart quickened to match the beat of a hummingbird's wings. But he felt no fear as Bakura leaned forward and trapped him, pinning him. Instead, Marik was only more aroused with this roughness. It was a rawness he'd craved since first seeing Bakura sink his teeth into that bloody steak.

Bakura tilted his head in order to draw his mouth close to Marik's ear.

"I know you're interested, Marik. There's no need to hide it," he said quietly. "Because you can't run from it."

The adrenaline he'd felt when running was as exhilarating as the way Bakura held him pinned against the wall. And as Bakura drew back slightly to gauge his reaction, Marik slowly smirked at him.

"Believe me, I have no desire to run."

Bakura's smile grew. And without waiting for more invitation, he leaned forward, pressed his lips against the crook of Marik's neck, and bit down hard. Marik's mouth opened as though in silent scream, but he didn't push Bakura away. Bakura bit, licked, and sucked on his neck. He sucked so vigorously, Marik was sure his blood would soon come rushing out. But Bakura seemed unworried with that possibility as he continued nipping up his jaw line until he reached Marik's lips.

At that, Marik decided he wouldn't simply be a puppet to Bakura's ministrations. He suddenly seized Bakura's shoulders, wheeled them around, and roughly shoved Bakura against the wall, exchanging their positions. Bakura's back collided thuddingly with the wall, the Millennium Ring around his neck chiming shortly, and after a moment of surprise, where it seemed that Bakura wasn't aware of what had just happened, Marik pressed his body into Bakura's. Before he could respond though, Marik rammed him further against the wall, aligning their body parts flush against one another.

Bakura's lips parted slightly as his eyes lit up. "Well, Marik. I didn't expect you to be so forward, but I'm pleasantly surprised."

Marik smirked. "I'm not going to be the 'good boy' I was in Egypt. That life is behind me."

"Let me guess—it's more fun to break the rules?" Bakura brought his hand around Marik's waist and pulled them closer.

Marik slowly removed the Millennium Ring from around Bakura's neck and dropped it on the floor, where the golden pieces clinked against each other upon collision. Then Marik leaned forward.

"I intend to make it more fun."

With those words, he pressed his mouth against Bakura's. The latter responded immediately by wrapping his arms around Marik, slipping them under his shirt, pressing them over Marik's scars without regard for the pain, and sliding his tongue into Marik's mouth. Their movements became raw and frantic. They lost track of whose hair was being ripped and whose hands were doing the ripping. They lost track of whose shirt was thrown off and whose pants were stripped off. Almost entirely unclothed, Marik managed to push Bakura backwards, into the bedroom. But before Marik could retain control, Bakura seized him by the shoulders and spun them around to throw Marik roughly onto the bed. The room was a blur because only Bakura's body became of interest to Marik. If, the next day, Marik was asked how the room was decorated or what furniture was in it, he wouldn't have remembered.

Bakura pinned Marik's hands into the mattress and climbed on top of the blonde, but didn't get very far before Marik entangled their legs and flipped them over, so he instead straddled Bakura.

And if Marik was also asked who made the final move to stay on top, he wouldn't have remembered either.

* * *

The next morning, Marik awoke to the feel of something biting and sucking on his chest. He opened his eyes blearily and caught sight of Bakura staring down at him and smirking, having paused in what he'd been doing. Marik sat up, his vision still hazy and unfocused.

He heard Bakura laugh quietly as he straddled Marik. At this, Marik followed Bakura's intent gaze to his own naked chest, which felt quite sore and raw.

And no wonder. It was thoroughly covered in bite marks. There was hardly an inch of skin that wasn't bitten or sucked on; his skin was red and bruised in many places. Marik's eyes widened in surprise as he threw Bakura off himself and gave him an incredulous look.

"Holy fuck, Bakura! You've probably just given me a whole new set of scars!" he shouted.

Bakura only smirked as he stood up from the bed. He had nothing on, considering most of their clothing had been scattered around the kitchen, but being naked didn't seem to bother him. "Perhaps. But I think you'll think back more fondly on these scars than the ones on your back."

"Bastard," Marik growled at him, but threw off the covers, stood up, and proceeded to look for his clothes.

Bakura simply laughed shortly and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Marik to ponder what they had done the previous night. Marik dropped back on the bed and ran his fingers through his dry, sweat-covered hair.

He couldn't believe it. He'd fucked Bakura. Or Bakura had fucked him. Or, as was the most likely case, they had probably fucked one another several times during the night. Marik hadn't even shared a kiss with anybody up until last night, and suddenly he'd lost his virginity as well, to Bakura no less. This only caused Marik's head to spin in circles until he growled to himself and finally stood up. Well, there was no point in considering it any longer. He had told himself he'd leave consequences behind once he came to Japan and wouldn't let repercussions stop him from doing what he wanted. And fooling around with Bakura, of all people, shouldn't have much consequence, considering the little regard the spirit had for attachments.

Marik found his boxers hanging off the headboard of the bed, and slipped into them, deciding there was probably a lot worse on him than dirty underwear. As he walked out of the bedroom, he noticed that the door to the bathroom was open, allowing steam to creep out of the room. Marik heard the sound of running water and realized that Bakura was showering with the door thrown wide open. Marik raised an eyebrow at this obvious invitation.

Images, sounds, and feelings from the previous night continued to cross Marik's mind as he walked into the bathroom. He recalled the way Bakura had ruthlessly scratched down the length of Marik's back, his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, mouth slightly ajar and face flushed, as he came the first time. Marik recalled himself breathing heavily as he thrust deeply, pressing Bakura's face into the crook of his neck, and biting his shoulder to stop from crying out in pleasure.

Marik's face reddened just from remembering this. But he decided to throw all care to the wind. If Bakura was so willing, then he didn't see any problem in indulging. He padded softly across the bathroom floor and placed his hand on the shower curtain, suddenly uncertain if he should really initiate something so soon.

"I don't know why you're hesitating. I thought the open door would be enough invitation," Marik heard Bakura's voice from the shower stall.

A moment later, Bakura threw open the shower curtain, revealing his naked, wet body. Marik watched as water sprayed into his white hair, slid over his face, slithered over his torso, and fell lower still. Throwing off his boxers, Marik joined him without further hesitation.

The rest of the day was spent in preparing to steal the rest of the artifacts and occasionally taking a break with more stimulating activities. Marik couldn't believe what a sex maniac Bakura was. It seemed that he was a fanatic in all that he did. Of course, Marik hardly minded it, and he quickly realized why Bakura had sex the same way he ate: The actions involved in one were the same he administered in the other.

They prepared to leave earlier than they had last night: They needed to keep the security guards from guessing exactly when the robbery would occur. The weather had been forecasted to be rainy all week, so Marik was hardly surprised when the sky clouded over in the evening and it began raining in dark sheets as they walked down the sidewalk toward the museum.

As they walked, their hands thrown deeply into their cloak pockets, Marik suddenly said, "You know, I was there when they brought the Millennium items out of the ground, several months ago. I was leading the excavation team."

Bakura only glanced at him briefly and raised an eyebrow to suggest Marik should continue.

"I suppose that's what really brought me to Japan. I saw the items be taken out of the sand and I couldn't stand them falling out of my hands so quickly. They're too powerful to just stay in that dusty museum. They should be used."

Bakura smirked. "You don't have to convince _me_ of that."

Marik wasn't really sure why he'd revealed that. He supposed that after all that they've shared the past several days, being open couldn't hurt.

After that exchange, they walked in silence until they reached the back side of the museum. It appeared that nothing had changed: The two same guards were on duty at the back door as the previous night. Having controlled them before, Marik easily manipulated their minds this time, and made them walk to the farthest end of the museum to buy them more time in case he lost focus again.

He and Bakura slipped into the museum and followed the same path they'd taken last night until they reached the replica of the Millennium Stone. It stood bathed in the illuminating light cast downward on the five artifacts.

Bakura set to work on the red laser detector as before, taking care to be quieter this time. Marik focused on the two minds he controlled and also kept an eye out for a possible third guard. He didn't want to linger any longer than necessary, but wanted to do this robbery without mistake. The last thing he wanted was to return again the next day.

It didn't take long for Bakura to dismantle the alarm and when the laser beam disappeared, he didn't hesitate, as he had the previous day. He grabbed the five items and one by one, placed them into a knapsack he'd brought along for that purpose, careful not to make them clink against each other.

Marik caught Bakura's eye as the latter turned and nodded that he was ready to leave. Marik led the way back down the hallways, having learnt the route by heart now. As they hurried down the shadowy halls, Bakura drew close to him and strode side by side with Marik.

"I suppose learning from yesterday's mistakes was the only way to steal these items all at the same time," Bakura stated.

Marik snorted, clutching the Rod tightly in his right hand. "I still maintain that you should've been less careless yesterday and we would've had the items quicker."

"Are you in that much of a hurry to be on the run?" Bakura asked. "Because the moment we walk out of this building, we'll be fugitives. While I don't have a problem with that, _you'll_ be turning your back on the respectable, Tombkeeper's life you led in Egypt."

Marik felt the weight of his Egyptian life bear down upon him. It would really be over then. As long as he was with Bakura, he would continue down this road of wickedness and immorality. This was just the beginning. But Marik found he couldn't muster any feeling of regret. His entire life, he'd wanted to be free. What more freedom could he achieve than giving into his desires and doing as he pleased?

As Marik considered these very weighty issues, he felt himself slide too far into his own mind. As he focused on his thoughts, he suddenly lost control of the two minds he was supposed to be manipulating. His control on them was like strings, reaching from the Rod to their thoughts, and the moment Marik's attention slipped from them, the strings broke.

"Fuck," Marik snarled to himself, realizing what he'd just done. He broke into a sprint, knowing that the guards would soon raise the alarm, just as they'd done before.

"What—Marik, what are you doing?" Bakura asked as he struggled to catch up.

"I've lost control of their minds," Marik replied tersely as he ran. He knew that this time, there was no one to blame but himself.

Bakura growled and ran faster. "Figures, that you would get distracted on a robbery as important as this."

"Shut the hell up and run, Bakura!"

The back door was looming in sight. Marik could see the doorknob glistening in the shadowy hallway. He heard voices and footsteps behind him and struggled to sprint faster. But in this sudden burst of speed, his foot caught the edge of his cloak and Marik tripped forward, colliding loudly and painfully with the tile floor. The Millennium Rod clattered to the ground, falling out of his grip. He heard Bakura halt and backtrack.

"Bloody hell, Marik! Are you _trying_ to get us caught?" Bakura growled as he bent down to offer Marik his hand.

For a moment, Marik was too surprised to move. The gesture was unexpected. Bakura had six of the Millennium items. The logical thing to do was to let Marik either help himself or get caught and hurry out of there, before Bakura was trapped, arrested, and the six items were returned to the museum under heavier security. But instead, Bakura was kneeling by Marik and offering him his hand.

"Come on, Marik," Bakura snapped. "We don't have all day."

At this, Marik grasped Bakura's extended hand and allowed Bakura to drag him up. Marik quickly grabbed the Rod that had fallen to the ground and with Bakura in the lead, hurried toward the back door and finally burst out of the godforsaken museum. The heavy, black rain fell on them in sheets, making it difficult to see where they were going.

Bakura rapidly ran through the dank alleyways as Marik followed. The rain was darker than he'd ever seen it. Not long on their familiar run through the mud-splattered alleys, Bakura suddenly turned down another road, one unknown to Marik.

"Where are we going?" Marik asked through the deafening, thick rain.

"I don't have a damn clue," Bakura answered, his voice light and exhilarated, as though robbing a museum was as innocent and fun as being at an amusement park. "Wherever they won't find us."

Marik stopped in his tracks. They were far enough that he wasn't worried about being caught at the moment. "You're out of your fucking mind, Bakura. We need a direction!"

Bakura sensed Marik's anxiety and stopped as well. The rain fell thickly over his face as his lips twisted into a smirk. "What are you so worried for, Marik? I thought you wanted change. I thought that's why you left Egypt, because there was no thrill in those bloody deserts. Isn't it thrill enough to have no direction? To have no clue what the next day will bring?"

Bakura's words soaked Marik thoroughly, as much as the rain had done. Marik glanced into the dark road before them. He was so used to the light that lit the paths he walked. Was it really that much of a risk, to know nothing about the future he faced?

As Marik considered these things, Bakura approached him and placed a hand on his back, pushing Marik forward, into Bakura's rainsoaked form. Marik did nothing to further this half-hug, as Bakura turned his face into Marik's hair, close by his ear.

"Come on, Blondie. You'll be fine." Bakura raised his head to look into Marik's downturned face. "Don't you trust me?"

Marik slowly raised his head to look into Bakura's piercing brown eyes, his expression unreadable.

"No."

The reply was so brutally honest—and the question had been partly rhetorical anyway—that Bakura was caught off-guard. His eyes widened slightly and despite the lack of feeling the spirit usually projected, it was hurt that flashed in his eyes at the word.

But at this, the corner of Marik's lips twisted upward into a smirk:

"But I think I could learn to."

And with that, Marik stepped out of Bakura's embrace and broke into a sprint, in the direction of the dark road ahead. Bakura smirked, shook his head, and caught up, dashing alongside Marik, running by his side as he would through any voyage the black road cast at them.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you to all who've read this! Let me know what you think!


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